


A Gentleman Never Kisses and Tells

by Alitomy



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: And They Found it in Each Other, Booker and Copley Deserve Love, Copley is Snarky and Sarcastic Because I Said So, Fluff, Its My Head-Canon Personality For Him, M/M, Nile Gives Off Little Sister Vibes, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:42:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26302885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alitomy/pseuds/Alitomy
Summary: Booker finds himself at Copley's door hours after the team left him in London.It takes him a while to realize how long he's stayed, and that maybe, just maybe, he doesn't want to leave.OR; Booker finds purpose and love.
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre/James Copley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 130





	A Gentleman Never Kisses and Tells

“You asshole,” Booker slurred as he leant himself on the wall besides Copley’s door. “You’re such a fucking asshole.” 

Copley, to his credit, didn’t say anything as the immortal sobbed on his doorstep, placing his hands in the pockets of his cardigan silently. Only a mere few hours had passed since the others had stopped on his doorstep and threatened him to work for them. 

He was wondering when Booker would arrive at his front door. 

“Would you like to come inside? Looks like a storm is brewing,” Copley said, keeping his voice stable as he watched Booker try to recover from his breakdown. “Booker.” 

“I can’t. I can’t. I need to go get something to drink. I need to go find somewhere to stay,” Booker rambled, as if he didn’t already know where he was planning to stay for his hundred years. 

“You look like you’ve drank enough. Come in,” Copley said firmly, placing a hand on Booker’s shoulder and leading him inside. Sliding Booker’s jacket off his shoulders, Copley hung it on the coat rack before walking towards his kitchen to put the kettle on, noting that they both could use a nice hot cup of tea. 

He watched as the immortal awkwardly stood by the front door before he slowly made his way over to Copley’s research boards, having seen them before, but not _seeing_ them. His eyes flickered over the many pictures and newspaper articles that Copley had tacked onto the boards as his teammates did so hours before, the same look set on his face as he made his way through the information in front of him. 

“I suppose you should have had a proper look at this before we rushed into things,” Copley said, walking over and pressing the hot mug into Booker’s hands. “Does it make you feel like you’ve done something worthwhile, at least?” 

“Doesn't make me feel anything,” the Frenchman muttered over the lip of his mug. “Nothing important.” 

“I’m sure you feel some sort of way about all the lives you’ve saved? How they’ve gone on to do better things that help humanity?” 

“Like what we tried to do?” Booker spat. 

“We had misguided intentions,” Copley hummed, pressing his hands against the warm ceramic to keep them warm. “But we still tried to make the world a better place.” 

Booker snorted and then took a sip of his tea. “You should have just convinced Merrick to take me and only me.” 

“He was a stubborn man, too driven by the potential profits he would have received from your samples. Rich men rarely miss out on what they want, thus he wanted all four of you,” Copley stared at the immortal for a moment. “You look like shit, pardon my French.” 

Booker’s lips curled up slightly, and Copley took it as a good sign. 

“That’s what happens when you get wasted on alcohol trying to make yourself forget that you sent your family off to be tortured in a lab until the end of time,” Booker mumbled. “And that you won’t be seeing them for a century.” 

Copley choked on his tea. “Pardon?” 

“They didn’t tell you? My price is one hundred years. I’m not allowed to see or be in contact with them.” Copley watched as he ran a hand down his face, his chest rising and falling heavily. 

“That’s incredible,” Copley said, astonished, and at the glare he received he quickly added, “An incredibly long time?” 

Booker huffed and downed the rest of his tea, placing his mug on the coffee table before eyeing the door. “I should go.” 

Tapping his fingernails on the side of his own mug, Copley looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the black clouds rolling in and hummed. “Stay. It’s going to pour down any minute now and we don’t want you catching a cold.” 

“I’ll get over it.” 

“Right, but that doesn’t mean you should put yourself in that position in the first place.” 

Booker stayed the night. 

~

Waking up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat and tears was _not_ the way Booker had wanted to spend his night in Copley’s spare bedroom. He should have been expecting another nightmare. He hadn’t had one in weeks. 

The rain was pounding on the large window and God, why did Copley insist on having such large windows? Booker sat up and rubbed his face, pushing himself up to lean against the headboard. The sound of the pouring rain hitting the glass was oddly calming, even in the darkness of night. 

Sighing, Booker climbed out of the bed and wandered down the stairs to the kitchen, opening up many cupboards before finding the cups, to which he grabbed one and poured himself some water. He’d much rather a glass of whiskey, but he wasn’t about to go stealing another man’s alcohol, especially when the man was asleep in his room. 

Booker downed the water, refilled the cup, then went to the living room which had more floor-to-ceiling windows. Situating himself on the couch with one foot tucked under the opposite thigh, he sat in silence with nothing but the sound of rain keeping him company. 

_’One hundred years of this,’_ he reminded himself, scowling as he sipped the water, knowing he deserved the punishment. His mind drifted to his plans for the morning. He was going to slip away at a more reasonable hour, hopefully before Copley wakes, catch a train to the airport then get the _fuck_ out of England. He didn’t want to be in the country for longer than necessary, and he didn’t want to step foot in London for a few decades at least. 

Booker didn’t know how long he sat there staring out the windows. It felt like hours, and to his credit, it probably was. The sky outside, albeit still covered in heavy clouds, was lighter, casting the land in a grey light as the rain let up slightly. He was so stuck in his thoughts he didn’t hear Copley walk down the stairs, wearily keeping an eye on him. 

“Booker?” Copley tried, and to no response he walked over and contemplated putting a hand on the man’s shoulder before deciding against it. “Hey.” 

Booker shot off the couch and held his hands up in a defensive stance, knocking over his half-empty glass of water in the process. Copley raised his eyebrows and held his hands up, watching as the immortal drew in deep breaths to calm himself before sheepishly looking over to him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, bending down to pick up the glass. 

“No need. Are you alright?” Copley looked at him with such worry that it made Booker feel ill. He didn’t deserve that, he didn’t deserve people feeling sorry for him. 

“Fine. I should go,” Booker said and made a move to the front door.

“Booker,” Copley sighed. He wasn’t sure if he could stop the immortal from leaving, but now knowing that he was exiled for a hundred years and that he was somewhat responsible for it, he didn’t want the man to be completely alone. “How long have you been up for?” 

“I don’t know, a couple of hours.” 

“Have you eaten?” Copley placed his hands in his pyjama pants pockets, looking Booker in the eye. “Do you want some breakfast?” 

Booker shook his head and reached for his coat. “I don’t need any more of your hospitality.” 

“I insist.” 

Booker stared at the man incredulously for a rather uncomfortable amount of time before he nodded his head slightly. 

“Great! I make some mean scrambled eggs.”

~ 

Before they knew it, Booker had stayed at Copley’s house for a few days. They’d busied themselves with burning the pictures and article clips on the information boards, Booker pausing every now and then to remember the events that were captured on paper. He remembered fighting in the Cuban Revolution and tending to the injured in the Vietnam War alongside Nicky, who was the only other in the team with extensive medical knowledge. 

Going through the papers only reminded him that he has lived through some of the worst events in modern human history; the US Civil War, two horrors of World War One, the Holocaust and Nazi’s of World War Two, the US’s bombing of Japan, Vietnam. He could go on. 

He dropped the papers and barely made it to the couch before his knees gave way, his breathing erratic. 

He was _not_ cut out for this.

He should have died in 1812. 

~ 

That’s how Copley finds him later, slouched on the couch with head in hands and only half of the boards cleared. Frowning, he walked over and simply sat next to Booker, offering silent support as the Frenchman was clearly going through some shit inside his mind. 

Booker lifted his head and turned to look at Copley for a moment, before returning his head to his palms. “I shouldn’t have had to go through all that.” 

“I don’t see why it’s so hard, all you had to do was burn some paper,” Copley quipped, albeit the wrong time to be snarky. 

“Fuck off, Copley. I should have died with a rope around my neck for deserting an army I never wanted to march in,” Booker huffed. “Why me? The others were all warriors, believing in their cause.” 

Copley remained silent. He had no words to comfort the Frenchman, though he placed a hand on his shoulder. When Booker didn’t shrug him off, he took it as a win. 

“You know you don’t have to be a warrior to change the world,” Copley started. “Maybe, when you’re allowed back with the team, you can just be their tech guy finding them jobs and removing their footprints. I certainly can’t do it forever.”

“ _That’s_ what they have you doing?” Booker looks at him incredulously and snorts. “I thought exile was bad. You have a lot of mess to clean up.” 

Copley hummed and squeezed Booker’s shoulder. “It would be much quicker if I had a partner to help.” 

Booker took a moment to think. It would be nice to, in time, reunite with the team and have some usefulness without having to fight. He could stay behind and only focus on intel and communications and erase them from the world, taking over from Copley when he grows older and inevitably passes.

That thought put a sour taste in his mouth. 

“I guess I could help,” he started. “But only because I know you’ll get inundated with things you need to cover up.” 

“Oh great,” Copley smiled before standing up. “Guess we better get started then.” 

~

Booker didn’t leave Copley’s house at all. 

If Copley minded, he didn’t mention it. 

The pair had worked tirelessly over several weeks to rid the team from any digital history archives around the world, including social media posts and surveillance camera feeds. It was a massive task, one that had Copley asleep at his desk and Booker knocked out on the armchair in the corner of the office, the tablet slowly slipping from his hands as he fell into unconsciousness. 

The coffee machine had had a workout, churning out cup after cup of caffeine that kept them going until early morning. Booker knew how Copley liked his coffee, and even if he looked down at the man’s cup in disgust as he passed it to him, he didn’t mind making it. He discovered Copley’s favourite foods and made them for dinner, grinning as the other man smiled and genuinely thanked him for the meal. 

It was strange, but a nice kind of strange. 

Different. 

Booker jerked awake with a gasp, the tablet dropping from his fingers with a loud _thud_. Orienting himself to the room and spotting Copley at his desk, hunched over with his head rested on his crossed forearms, Booker relaxed and leant forward to pick up the tablet from the floor. 

_’TOG ETA 0600.’_ Flashed at him as he turned the device on. Panic ran through Booker like lightning, and he checked the time, ‘ _0555_.

“Fuck,” he whispered and stood, walking over to Copley and shaking him awake, thrusting the tablet in his face. “I need to go.” 

Copley rubbed at his eyes and looked at the message, then at Booker. “They’re going to see you if you leave now. Don’t worry about them.” 

“Don’t worry? Are you serious?” Booker whispered in a harsh tone. He really shouldn’t be here when they arrive. 

He definitely shouldn’t have stayed this long in the first place. 

“Let’s be honest, there are pieces of you all over this house. Even if you weren’t physically here, they’d know.” Copley stood and walked towards the door, turning to look at Booker. “You can hide in here if you must, but I think it might be better to face them.” 

As Copley walked out of the office, Booker put his head in his hands and groaned. _’Fuck it,’_ he thought, following Copley out of the office. He needed a drink if he was going to see the team again after such a short time apart. 

~

When Copley opened the front door, Nile immediately knew something was up. Judging by the look on his face Nile knew he was hiding something and she was going to find out what, even if the others didn’t pick up on it. 

“Good morning,” Copley greeted cheerfully, and Nile couldn’t fathom how he had such energy this early in the morning. “Come inside.” 

They walked in and immediately overtook the house, falling onto couches and taking in the details that have changed since their last visit. No more info boards with all their history, no more blood stained carpet, too many cups on the coffee table for one person, Booker’s jacket hanging on the rack-

Wait. 

Nile did a double take, and yes, that was Booker’s leather jacket he had worn that final day. She glanced at Copley who was in deep discussion with Andy and Joe about the details of the mission, before meeting Nicky’s eyes. It appeared that he had found the jacket as well, and Nile still didn’t know the man’s expressions well enough to read what he was feeling. 

“I’m gonna fetch us drinks. Do y’all want something?” Nile spoke, interrupting the conversation at hand, and to collective nods she walked into the kitchen, only stopping when she saw a particular Frenchman sitting at the island. “Well, fancy seeing you here.” 

Booker snickered into his cup as he took a sip. “Hello, Nile.” 

Nile gathered more cups from the cupboards and flicked the kettle on, settling on arranging tea for everyone as she kept taking glances at Booker. “So why _are_ you here?” 

The man shrugged. “I showed up drunk the day you guys exiled me and I never left.” 

“You’ve been here for months?” She asked as she poured the water into the cups. “What have you been doing?” 

“Copley insisted that I stayed and helped him erase us from history.” Booker flicked his eyes to the doorway and stopped when Nicky appeared. “I didn’t plan on staying.” 

“How much have you erased?” Nicky asked, walking over to the counter and picking up the cup Nile decided was his.

“Majority. We haven’t stopped for weeks. I don’t remember the last time we slept in the bed.” 

Nile’s eyebrows raised and a hint of a smile formed on her lips. “ _The_ bed? You’re sharing?” 

“What? No! Nile, what the hell?” Booker stuttered and wiped at his mouth, the tea spilling as he registered her words. “I just meant, you know, a bed. We’ve been passing out on the couch or in the office trying to set up this new program that will recognise your faces on CCTV footage and automatically erase or corrupt it.” 

Nile smirked and sent a sideways glance towards Nicky before deciding to drop the subject of where Booker likes to sleep. “Sure, whatever you say, Book. Now c’mon, tell me all about this new program. Is it finished?” 

~ 

The team left after a few hours, begrudgingly saying farewell to Booker as they passed him, Andy giving him a small smile and Nile winking at him, glancing at Copley before shutting the door behind her. As Copley shuffled around the room cleaning up dishes from their meal, Booker took in the sight of him, silently clearing the table. If he noticed Booker staring, he didn’t say anything. 

He thought about what Nile had said when he misspoke earlier. Well, she didn’t outrightly say anything, but Booker has been around a while and caught onto the teasing undertones to her words as if she’d discovered a huge secret of his. It wasn’t a secret if it didn’t exist, right? 

What on earth was he talking about? There’s nothing between him and Copley. They're simply work associates, working together to help the team disappear. 

He didn’t think about the mornings where Copley always seemed to have a cup of coffee ready for him on the counter, or pouring him a whiskey when they’d spent hours in front of screens with no success. Booker didn’t think of that one time he woke up on the couch with a blanket encompassing him which he definitely didn’t have when he passed out. 

_’Acts of service.’_ His mind provided for him. 

Booker shook his head at his own thoughts. Surely not. 

But he was right, because Copley had just placed a cup of tea on the table in front of him. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, bringing Booker back to reality. “You’re quite distant at the moment. Do you need space?” 

Booker immediately shook his head, picking up his tea and taking a sip. It was exactly how he liked it. “I.. I think I’m realising things..”

“Oh?” 

“But I don’t know what to make of them, so I’m just going to ask you.” Booker lifted his head to look at the other man, taking in a deep breath. “What.. What is this?” 

Copley smiled. “It’s green tea. Your favourite.” 

“ _James,_ ” Booker groaned, feeling awkward now that he had said the man’s first name. “I meant this.” He wiggled a finger between the two of them. 

“Ah,” the other man nodded and smiled softly. “Well, it’s whatever you want it to be.” 

“That’s not fair on either of us.” 

“No, but I’m also content with this being a platonic, working relationship,” Copley hummed and tapped his fingernails on his cup, which Booker had realised that it was a nervous tick for the man. They sat in silence long enough for it to be unnerving. 

Booker wasn’t normally in favour for soft touches and displays of affection, having seen his fair share through Joe and Nicky. He wasn’t sure of Copley’s stance on the matter, but he slowly reached out and placed his hand atop of his, stopping the tapping fingernails. Slowly, Booker maneuvered Copley’s hand enough to entwine their fingers, and when the other man didn’t pull away, he smiled softly. 

“I wouldn’t mind trying, whatever this may be or become,” Booker said, almost shyly as he looked Copley in the eye, the brown eyes returning the soft look. 

“Then let’s try,” Copley smiled, squeezing their fingers together. 

~ 

The next time the team arrives at Copley’s house, they enter with the key hiding behind a loose brick in the wall when knocking doesn’t produce a response. Andy enters first, and stops them when she hears soft classical music coming from the kitchen, and she makes them cease their conversations with a look. 

Andy walked through the house and stopped at the doorway to the kitchen, her heart melting at the sight before her. Copley was making dinner, slowly but surely cutting up vegetables and throwing them in a pan. It would normally be an easy task, but Booker had his arms around the man’s waist and was swaying them side to side as he hummed along to the music. 

It couldn’t get any more grossly cute. 

But then it did. 

Booker kissed Copley’s shoulder and spun him around, pulling them closer together as they danced, Copley’s arms going round Booker’s neck. They were totally lost in each other, and they looked _happy_. 

Andy ushered the others back into the living room, deciding to leave the pair to their devices, but Nile grinned cheekily before opening her mouth. 

“I _knew_ it!” 

The two men jump apart, startled at the presence of others, before grinning.

“Hey Nile, everyone.” Booker grinned and greeted them all, slipping an arm around Copley’s waist. “We uh, didn’t hear you come in.”

“No worries,” Nile waved them off and walked over, sitting at the island. “When did this happen? Tell me everything!” 

Booker looked between everyone before his eyes settled on Copley, whose face was tinted the slightest bit pink at getting caught in an intimate moment. “It actually happened the night you guys left when you were here last. Your words made me think a lot, Nile.” 

“You’ve been together for two and a half months? Why was I not informed of this development?” Nile threw her hands in the air, but her voice was light and teasing like a little sister. 

“Maybe,” Copley spoke, lifting his head to press a kiss to Booker’s cheek. “It’s because you guys were either on a mission or on hiatus with a strict rule to not contact you. Besides, the chance never arose to share the news.” 

“You guys better not be as bad as Joe and Nicky in the PDA department. It’s bad enough with them two,” Nile laughed as the aforementioned immortals squawked at her before turning her attention back to Booker and Copley. “So, who made the first move?” 

Booker looked at Copley and smiled softly, squeezing the man’s hip. 

“A gentleman _never_ kisses and tells.”

**Author's Note:**

> i love nile's lil sis energy, like go off sis get those two men together!!!  
> this started off as a small idea of how can booker rejoin the team and still learn to be happy with his life without needing to be a soldier all the time and BAM, this came out (i guess booker and copley did too but shh!)
> 
> (Also hashtag booker being kylie jenner in 2016.. the year of realizing thing xD)
> 
> follow me on tumblr: alit0my


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